Read Online Exodus: Book Two: Last Days Trilogy by Jacqueline Druga - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jacqueline Druga
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place.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“That means you need to tell me how to proceed. You’re in charge... Mr. President.”
Haskell, Indiana
Wearing a towel and her brightest smile, Reggie flung open the bathroom door with an, “Ah,” she sang out, “my hair finally passed the squeak test.” She stepped into the hotel room. “Six times, Marcus. Six.” She paused when she saw him. “Marcus?”
Marcus didn’t move. He sat on the edge of the bed, his face inches from the television screen.
“Marcus?”
He turned toward her, fingers over his mouth.
Hurriedly, Reggie sat next to him on the bed. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
Marcus placed his hand on her knee and gripped, then released, then gripped, as he deeply exhaled over and over. His eyes traveled back and forth from the television to Reggie.
Marcus swallowed. “Power. Control. Were they reluctant to stop him? Or didn’t they have the means? Is that why they didn’t? There has to be a reason.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“That’s because it doesn’t make sense. Though maybe in the big scheme of things it does. I guess there has to be only one leader. Or... make room for one leader. I suppose that could be it.”
“Marcus.”
“They’re all dead, Reg.”
“What? Who?” Reggie asked, growing pale.
Marcus shifted his eyes to her. “The House. The Senate. The President. The entire Democratic system...” He looked back to the television. “Dead.”
The Capitol Building, Washington, DC
Were America not asleep, the country might have witnessed what the reporters and people did on the steps of the Capitol, the numbness and shock of the aftermath, as body after body was brought out. At the same time, as the power of presidential ascendancy dictated, the Head of the CIA, Leonard O’Neill was being sworn in as President of the United States.
That was the first order of business. It was done without ceremony. Then he would deliver his first official pronouncement to the American people.
A podium was set up not far from the Capitol steps, surrounded by microphones and a barrage of reporters.
A White House spokesmen, still choking in grief, introduced O’Neill. After simply stating, “There’s been a tragedy,” the White House spokesman announced, “Mr. President” as he moved away from the podium.
Leonard stepped forward, his eyes closed, his bowed head signaling a moment of silence.
Afterward, he shivered out a breath. “President William Nelson. The Senate. Congress. They joined today to discuss a national emergency. At approximately eight-thirty p.m., Eastern Standard Time, a chemical weapon was released into the ventilation system, killing all members of the cabinet, from what we can tell, instantly.” He held his hand up to silence the barrage of questions. “Several...” His tone rose. “Several groups have already come forward, taking credit for this action.”
“Sir!” a reporter yelled out. “Will this be your first order of business as President?”
“Before emergency cabinet members are selected, we must do what we can to take control of the situation. Right now, the FBI and CIA are compiling lists of those involved with these organizations. Arrests will be made. Procedures may not be followed. National security in this instance outweighs civil rights. We will question first, then release. If I have to do it myself, I will. This will be... a massive sweep.” Leonard tried to walk away but stopped for one more shouted question.
“In the wake of all these horrific happenings, can this massive sweep be effectively executed?”
Leonard was silent for a moment, and then stared intently to the woman reporter who asked the question. “I believe because of these horrific happenings, we must be even more effective in our execution. I predict a widespread public outcry, a mandate from the American people. In more ways than one.” He paused, and then looked at his audience.
“What exactly does that mean?”
“That means you need to tell me how to proceed. You’re in charge... Mr. President.”
Haskell, Indiana
Wearing a towel and her brightest smile, Reggie flung open the bathroom door with an, “Ah,” she sang out, “my hair finally passed the squeak test.” She stepped into the hotel room. “Six times, Marcus. Six.” She paused when she saw him. “Marcus?”
Marcus didn’t move. He sat on the edge of the bed, his face inches from the television screen.
“Marcus?”
He turned toward her, fingers over his mouth.
Hurriedly, Reggie sat next to him on the bed. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
Marcus placed his hand on her knee and gripped, then released, then gripped, as he deeply exhaled over and over. His eyes traveled back and forth from the television to Reggie.
Marcus swallowed. “Power. Control. Were they reluctant to stop him? Or didn’t they have the means? Is that why they didn’t? There has to be a reason.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“That’s because it doesn’t make sense. Though maybe in the big scheme of things it does. I guess there has to be only one leader. Or... make room for one leader. I suppose that could be it.”
“Marcus.”
“They’re all dead, Reg.”
“What? Who?” Reggie asked, growing pale.
Marcus shifted his eyes to her. “The House. The Senate. The President. The entire Democratic system...” He looked back to the television. “Dead.”
The Capitol Building, Washington, DC
Were America not asleep, the country might have witnessed what the reporters and people did on the steps of the Capitol, the numbness and shock of the aftermath, as body after body was brought out. At the same time, as the power of presidential ascendancy dictated, the Head of the CIA, Leonard O’Neill was being sworn in as President of the United States.
That was the first order of business. It was done without ceremony. Then he would deliver his first official pronouncement to the American people.
A podium was set up not far from the Capitol steps, surrounded by microphones and a barrage of reporters.
A White House spokesmen, still choking in grief, introduced O’Neill. After simply stating, “There’s been a tragedy,” the White House spokesman announced, “Mr. President” as he moved away from the podium.
Leonard stepped forward, his eyes closed, his bowed head signaling a moment of silence.
Afterward, he shivered out a breath. “President William Nelson. The Senate. Congress. They joined today to discuss a national emergency. At approximately eight-thirty p.m., Eastern Standard Time, a chemical weapon was released into the ventilation system, killing all members of the cabinet, from what we can tell, instantly.” He held his hand up to silence the barrage of questions. “Several...” His tone rose. “Several groups have already come forward, taking credit for this action.”
“Sir!” a reporter yelled out. “Will this be your first order of business as President?”
“Before emergency cabinet members are selected, we must do what we can to take control of the situation. Right now, the FBI and CIA are compiling lists of those involved with these organizations. Arrests will be made. Procedures may not be followed. National security in this instance outweighs civil rights. We will question first, then release. If I have to do it myself, I will. This will be... a massive sweep.” Leonard tried to walk away but stopped for one more shouted question.
“In the wake of all these horrific happenings, can this massive sweep be effectively executed?”
Leonard was silent for a moment, and then stared intently to the woman reporter who asked the question. “I believe because of these horrific happenings, we must be even more effective in our execution. I predict a widespread public outcry, a mandate from the American people. In more ways than one.” He paused, and then looked at his audience.
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